


Death Marks

by DisguisedasInnocent



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisguisedasInnocent/pseuds/DisguisedasInnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Grounder tradition it is important for a warrior to gain marks for their kills. As a Leader, Clarke believes it is important to take responsibility for her kills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Marks

“How many people died.” Clarke asked lifting her eyes away from the planning table, and the map spread across it’s surface. “How many died Lexa?”

“In Tondc two hundred and fifty three people.” Lexa answered. The woman lifted her green eyed gaze to meet Clarke’s eyes, searching through the flickering colour for the woman’s emotions, pushing to understand her question. “Why do you ask Clarke?”

“The village that we burned with our flares. How many died there?” Clarke murmured as she stared into Lexa’s eyes. Clarke watched the way that her lips pulled into a frown. She watched Lexa’s face contort with sadness at the memory of the village - the young, the innocent, and the old - dead in flames and dust. “How many have I murdered Lexa?”

“One hundred and nine people Clarke.” The Commander said, her voice soft and quiet, her hands clenched into fists on top of the table.

Clarke breathed in sharply, adding up the numbers in her head, feeling the weight of each life on her heart. “Four hundred and sixty two people, and three hundred more of your warriors.” 

“Yes.” Lexa agreed. “Why do you ask Clarke?”

“Your people have a tradition.” Clarke mused with a shrug of her shoulders and a slight frown. “A mark for each kill. I deserve seven hundred and sixty two marks.”

“Not each kill belongs to you Clarke of the Sky.” Lexa reminded the woman, stepping around the table to place her hand on Clarke’s shoulder, squeezing the taut muscle in reassurance. “You are a Leader, but you did not kill all those people.” 

“Yes, I did.” Clarke shrugged Lexa’s hand away from her shoulder and stepped back from the planning table. “I’ll be back later, I need some air.” 

“Go and breathe easy Clarke.” Lexa sighed. “You do not bear the weight alone.” 

That evening Lexa sat on the edge of her bed, wiping the blood away from Clarke’s back, ignoring the sight of seven hundred and sixty two small black marks inked onto the Sky woman’s pale back.


End file.
